


Still

by Magnetism_bind



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Cock Rings, Desk Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Restraints, Sexual Roleplay, fake-non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-20
Updated: 2012-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-31 11:30:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/343572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'It turns them both on like nobody's business when Charles pretends he doesn't want it.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a 1stclass_kink over at Livejournal.

It always starts differently for which Charles is privately, endlessly glad. 

It always leaves him breathless and boneless and spent. 

It's always perfect. 

 

It's mid-afternoon. Charles has just finished running the students through a training setup and is looking forward to a half hour or so of peace before he starts the next round. All the students (children, really, despite what they've been through already) are coming along splendidly. Charles couldn't be more proud. 

“Working too hard again?” Erik's hand on the back of neck is a cool reminder that he's no longer alone. 

“They've got to be trained,” Charles points out. 

The fingers around his neck tighten for an instant, then move away. “So they do.” Erik murmurs. “And what about you, 'professor'?”

“What about me?” Charles's voice is calm enough, even if his pulse is racing. 

“I think it's time we had a private session.” 

“I'm in the middle of,” Erik's hand is back in his hair, pulling him up out of his chair. 

“Not at the moment. At the moment you're on _my_ time. I've been teaching Sean and Alex to defend themselves all afternoon, and all I could think about was bending you over this desk and shoving my cock up inside you as far as it could go.” He lets go, causing Charles to stumble backward. 

“Erik, here? Now? Please.”

“Yes, Charles. Here. _Now_.” Erik smiles, showing his teeth. 

“I really think,” Charles objects, but that's as far as Erik lets him get before he grabs him, pushing him back against the desk hard. Charles will have bruises tomorrow. He knows this already. 

“Still your thinking, Charles.” Erik says quietly. “It's not needed now.”

He traps Charles between his body and the desk, pressing him back against the hard polished wood. For a moment Erik looks as though he's going to kiss Charles, but then he simply presses him hard over the desk, pulling at his trousers. His hands are quick and greedy, moving over Charles's skin with an urgency that's rough even for him. 

Charles struggles, but a blow to his side leaves him winded and limp. He slumps across the desk as Erik gets his trousers all the way down. His underwear follows, pooling around his ankles. Erik's fingers are there, pushing at Charles's entrance, dry and rough, invading him, stretching him open. Charles bits his lip hard enough to draw blood. If he cries out, someone will come and that's the last thing he wants. 

“There,” Erik murmurs thickly. “You're so tight.” He moves his fingers out, spitting on them before thrusting them back inside Charles once more. The angle is painful. The burn is too sharp, too dry. Charles's hands scrabble aimlessly at the desk, unable to find a handhold. His side aches, making it hard to breathe. None of it stops his own erection, rubbing insistently against the desk. 

Hesitantly, Charles starts to inch his hand down to his cock. But before he can, Erik's got his wrists pinned flat on the desk. Erik keeps him there as he stretches the two metal bookends to loop around his wrist, holding Charles firmly in place. 

“That was very naughty, Charles.” Erik whispers in his ear.

Then the slim, propeller-shaped paperweight that's rested on Charles's desk for as long as he can remember, is in the air, transforming itself before Charles's eyes until it's nothing more than a thick metal band. Just the size for...

Charles licks his lips nervously. “Erik.”

“Shh, if you stay still, maybe it won't hurt.” Erik's mouth is cool at the back of his neck right above Charles's shirt collar, damp with sweat. “But then you're never still, are you, Charles?” He twists the fingers in him cruelly and Charles cries out. 

The metal ring slides over Charles's cock, but his breath is stolen from him as Erik thrusts into him hard. Charles sees _white_ , a rushing blaze of nothing, total blankness, and the silence. And then he returns to the world. The world where Erik is fucking him brutally into the desk, holding him prisoner with metal he's fashioned himself. Each thrust sends a jolt of unwanted pleasure through Charles's body. His balls hang heavy and aching. If he could just touch himself, and ease the pressure...but his hands full futilely at the metal holding him in place. He's not moving until Erik wants him to. 

Erik's fingernails dig into his hipbones as he works in short, sharp thrusts, impaling Charles effectively on his cock. Charles closes his eyes. There's the steady tick of the clock off to his left. The slap of flesh on flesh, the sounds of Erik fucking him. In the distance Charles can make out the muted voices of the students. Anyone could walk in on them, any of the kids, at any moment whatsoever. Charles trembles at the thought. 

As if Erik knows what he's thinking, he leans in. “If I made you scream, they'd all come running. They'd find you here, fucked open raw. Do you think they'd like that? Seeing their precious professor so beautifully,” he eases out of Charles, admiring the way Charles's ass clings tightly to his cock, reluctant to surrender it, before thrusting back in. “laid out for my pleasure.”

“You wouldn't,” Charles murmurs. But for once, he's not too sure. 

“Wouldn't I?” Erik licks at his jaw. “Are you so certain, Charles?”

Charles opens his mouth but then Erik _moves_ inside him and he can't breathe. Erik's pressing into him, rubbing across that spot. It isn't long before he's coming, buried inside Charles. Charles is still so hard he's aching. But he stays silent until Erik slips out of him and steps back. 

“Beg me for it, Charles,” Erik says. “All you have to do is beg.” 

The band around Charles's cock tightens slightly, eliciting another whimper from him. “Please, don't.”

“Wrong answer, Charles,” Erik murmurs. Then, somehow, the band is moving over his skin, milking Charles's cock, cool metal stroking him off, until at least Charles comes with a broken cry. 

The holds on his wrists loosen and move away, reforming themselves into book ends. Charles watches the process. There's semen on the back of his legs, sticky and unpleasant. He's bruised and sore. His fingers tremble as he pulls at his trousers. Erik just watches silently until Charles is dressed, and then he simply leaves. 

Charles spends the rest of the day, an uncomfortable, sore mess. 

 

It's only later, after Charles has showered and returned to his bedroom that Erik is waiting for him. 

His hand moves gently over Charles's cheek. He waits. 

Charles kisses him. He can feel the relief spreading through Erik's mind. Each time Erik wonders if he'll go too far, even though it was Charles who suggested this in the first place. Even though Erik enjoys it as much as Charles does. 

“I am never going to be able to look at that paperweight in the same way again,” Charles tells Erik, drawing him over to the bed. 

Erik laughs. “Well, you have to admit it was put to very good use.”

“Oh, most assuredly,” Charles leans back against his pillow, his hand resting on Erik's chest, feeling it move up and it down with the rhythm of the man's breath.

Charles likes this almost as much as he likes the other, lying beside Erik in the stillness of the night. Erik's hands, perfect in their tenderness and cruelty, holding him close. 

Charles sleeps at last.


End file.
